The Waif of the Cynthia | Page 2

well. They were not ignorant
of the fact that in his youth he had passed brilliant examinations, and
that he had been offered a professorship in a great university, where he
might have attained to honor and wealth. But he had a sister, poor
Kristina, who was always ill and suffering. She would not have left her
native village for the world, for she felt sure that she would die if they
removed to the city. So Mr. Malarius had submitted gently to her
wishes, and sacrificed his own prospects. He had accepted the humble
duty of the village school-master, and when twenty years afterward
Kristina had died, blessing him, he had become accustomed to his
obscure and retired life, and did not care to change it. He was absorbed

in his work, and forgot the world. He found a supreme pleasure in
becoming a model instructor, and in having the best-conducted school
in his country. Above all, he liked to instruct his best pupils in the
higher branches, to initiate them into scientific studies, and in ancient
and modern literature, and give them the information which is usually
the portion of the higher classes, and not bestowed upon the children of
fishermen and peasants.
"What is good for one class, is good for the other," he argued. "If the
poor have not as many comforts, that is no reason why they should be
denied an acquaintance with Homer and Shakespeare; the names of the
stars which guide them across the ocean, or of the plants which grow
on the earth. They will soon see them laid low by their ploughs, but in
their infancy at least they will have drunk from pure sources, and
participated in the common patrimony of mankind." In more than one
country this system would have been thought imprudent, and calculated
to disgust the lowly with their humble lot in life, and lead them to
wander away in search of adventures. But in Norway nobody thinks of
these things. The patriarchal sweetness of their dispositions, the
distance between the villages, and the laborious habits of the people,
seem to remove all danger of this kind. This higher instruction is more
frequent than a stranger would believe to be possible. Nowhere is
education more generally diffused, and nowhere is it carried so high; as
well in the poorest rural schools, as in the colleges.
Therefore the Scandinavian Peninsula may flatter herself, that she has
produced more learned and distinguished men in proportion to her
population, than any other region of Europe. The traveler is constantly
astonished by the contrast between the wild and savage aspect of nature,
and the manufactures, and works of art, which represent the most
refined civilization.
But perhaps it is time for us to return to Noroe, and Dr.
Schwaryencrona, whom we have left on the threshold of the school. If
the pupils had been quick to recognize him, although they had never
seen him before, it had been different with the instructor, whose
acquaintance with him dated further back.

"Ah! good-day, my dear Malarius!" said the visitor cordially,
advancing with outstretched hands toward the school-master.
"Sir! you are very welcome," answered the latter, a little surprised, and
somewhat timidly, as is customary with all men who have lived
secluded lives; and are interrupted in the midst of their duties. "But
excuse me if I ask whom I have the honor of--"
"What! Have I changed so much since we ran together over the snow,
and smoked our long pipes at Christiania; have you forgotten our
Krauss boarding-house, and must I name your comrade and friend?"
"Schwaryencrona!" cried Mr. Malarius. "Is it possible.--Is it really
you.--Is it the doctor?"
"Oh! I beg of you, omit all ceremony. I am your old friend Roff, and
you are my brave Olaf, the best, the dearest friend of my youth. Yes, I
know you well. We have both changed a little in thirty years; but our
hearts are still young, and we have always kept a little corner in them
for those whom we learned to love, when we were students, and eat our
dry bread side by side."
The doctor laughed, and squeezed the hands of Mr. Malarius, whose
eyes were moist.
"My dear friend, my good excellent doctor, you must not stay here,"
said he; "I will give all these youngsters a holiday, for which they will
not be sorry, I assure you, and then you must go home with me."
"Not at all!" declared the doctor, turning toward the pupils who were
watching this scene with lively interest. "I must neither interfere with
your work, nor the studies of these youths. If you wish to give me great
pleasure, you will permit me to sit here near you, while you resume
your teaching."
"I